


Stab Of Love

by IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Brief Description of Blood, Brief description of a stabbing, M/M, anyway this is just a fic of the gm flirting & then getting stabbed, idk how to trigger tag properly but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore/pseuds/IHidMyFaceFromYouNoMore
Summary: Short fic scene. In the midst of a lot of confusing feelings and new impressions, Loki stabs The Grandmaster.Some unnerving flirting, but it's all a big tease. The most subtle Frostmaster fic I've written yet. You might even be able to read this without thinking of Loki and The GM as a couple. But, I mean, come on.Takes place in the first act of the Thor: Ragnarok movie, right when Loki lands on Sakaar and meets The GM.Edit: AO3-user hobba712 has been so kind to translate this fic into Russian ! The translation can be found here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/7257994





	Stab Of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-upload from my old account that I have deleted. The work upload was originally on March 9, 2018, and I have left it untouched so it is exactly as it was.

Had it been just hours since Loki arrived, face first onto Sakaar? Or had it been minutes? Loki couldn’t tell. His concept of time was shot, all he knew was that he was on a strange garbage-planet and he had been taken to a tower in the middle of it. 

 

In those hour-minutes he had been received with unusual hospitality. From being lifted out of a heap of trash to being flown to that tower, Loki had been treated with care by some goons in the spaceship. They said they were taking him to their ‘Grandmaster’. From the descriptors they used around him, he sounded like a formidable enemy.

 

Loki had been given comfortable living-quarters. He had been granted a private audience with the leader of the planet. He had been handed a drink. It was a nice drink, Loki noted, and even then he was still suspicious that there was a plot lying underneath this Grandmaster, this being’s generous spirit. There always was a plot.

 

He was now standing before Loki, swishing a little to the sides to the bleepy-bloopy music around them, his long golden robe swishing with him. He had a drink too, comfortably held in his bejeweled hand. He was enjoying himself, that Grandmaster. Loki hadn’t even done anything. He had only been told to go to the top floor if he wished to speak privately to The Grandmaster. And with Sakaar on panoramic view all around them, they were just standing there, not doing much yet.

 

“Goodness me. I could stand here looking at this all day.” The Grandmaster didn’t gesture at anything in particular, but Loki knew. “But I’m gonna have to start with more than just that - you, you, ha-ha, you’re really here, and now you gotta tell me who you really are.”

 

Loki failed to see why that was so amusing. “I am Loki, son of - of Asgard. And I bet I have more questions than you do.” He had to get used to using his more accurate title.

 

“Hmm, yeah, I bet too! But this isn’t really a, uh, a competition. But it could be. Oh, stars, thanks for that idea. But - But, that’s not, that’s a sidetrack - see, uh, Loki - is that right? Am I pronouncing it right?” He waited for Loki to approve before he could go on. Loki nodded, confused. 

 

“You see, I get to ask questions and you get to answer them. And then maybe you can ask one too, I mean, I’m not gonna be tyrannical about this. I might be a dictator, but I am no tyrant. Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?”

 

Loki’s survival instincts told him to go along with it. “I am the God of Mischief. Ruler of Asgard, as well. I have arrived here on Sakaar by error.”

 

“Oh no! No, not by error. Far from it. No, you’ve come here as part of your journey.”

Loki squinted. “I did not go through a worm hole willingly.”

The Grandmaster rolled his eyes with a smile. “Yeah, but your fall was part of a grander scheme. And you chose to come see me up here. Is that an error?”

 

Loki could not have been more perplexed. “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

The Grandmaster sipped delicately from his drink, sighing with content after tasting. 

 

“I had a dream last night, someone - that’s you, - was calling out to me. I have these dreams with people’s energies appearing in my mindfield, telling me they’re, uh, approaching. And so you did. I don’t know who you are yet, but -“ The Grandmaster moved half a step closer, making Loki want to take a whole step backwards. But he didn’t. 

 

“I know you’re here for a good reason. And that you’re more friendly than you look.”

 

The Grandmaster moved closer still. Loki thought he was gonna fall over backwards. He put his drink down on a nearby stand. 

 

The Grandmaster’s hand, unbeknownst to Loki, was behind him, approaching his shoulders. His finger touched a patch of bare skin at the base of Loki’s neck.

 

The spark running up Loki’s nerves in the milliseconds it took for The Grandmaster’s fingers to register as being on Loki’s skin ignited a reaction hidden inside him: The duel of ‘fight or flight’. Despite what Loki had gathered through the goons about The Grandmaster’s true powers behind his gentle facade, his instincts chose ‘fight’. 

 

In the time Loki could have spent thinking his move through, he instead went straight to action, conjuring his smallest dagger in the palm of his hand. Standing so close to The Grandmaster, stabbing him in the abdomen was not as dramatic a motion.

 

And it didn’t seem so either for The Grandmaster. His reaction was that of silent disbelief and surprise. He blinked a few times rapidly, processing. His upper lip maybe stiffened a bit. He hadn’t even tipped his cocktail.

 

But the horror was setting in for Loki. He looked from the wound, turning dark with an undertone Loki was too shocked to decide if it was blue or purple, then he looked to The Grandmaster’s expression. The Grandmaster’s eyes finally looked into Loki’s. No fury were in them. They were more perturbed than anything. No matter what, Loki realised he was in infinite trouble.

 

“Uh, well,” The Grandmaster started. But it took no more than a second before he broke his disturbed look with a hearty laughter. Loki did not join him, but stared silently with his fearful eyes, empty and wide.

 

The most disturbing part of this situation for Loki, was the line The Grandmaster whispered next: “Why don’t you, ah… Push the blade in deeper. _Hm?_ ”

 

That was not a suggestion, but the tone of The Grandmaster’s voice was suggestive, coated in brown sugar. The smile he wore was as sweet as that.

 

Loki’s legs finally worked again, he turned in one swift motion to head for the door, some 20 paces behind him. But his cloak was tugged at before he could finish his first step. 

 

The Grandmaster held his gaze once again, when the pale and fearful Loki turned to look at his captor. “So you’re just gonna stab me and leave? That’s not very nice of you. In fact, I would consider that rude,” he gestured with his drink before looking down at it, considering it, then sipping gingerly from its peach-colored content. “I thought you stabbed me so we could have some fun. Y’know. Together.” 

 

Speechless up until this point, it had sunk in for Loki that The Grandmaster maybe was not trying to kill him for treason after all. But he had to tread carefully. He turned back to The Grandmaster, letting him let go of his cloak to place his hand by Loki’s waist.

 

“I am… a fool, Grandmaster.” A shame-faced smile had to go with the madness that was happening around Loki. “I’ve had to be more than just cautious to a normal degree in my life. You startled me. But that’s no excuse. I apologize. Is there a chance of you forgiving me for this…” Loki didn’t know to retrieve the knife or not, his hand hovered over the shaft. “Misapprehension?”

 

The Grandmaster took Loki by the soft pad of his hovering hand, guiding it to the knife. “I like to give everyone I meet one freebie try at assassinating me. Because, I mean, it’s kinda fun seeing people get creative with it. Nice touch with the personalized blade, by the way, I love that - is that your insignia? Oh, and also I’m, of course, immortal, and it doesn’t bother me that much. Like, it does bother me! I mean, hey: what are you trying to communicate with this stabbing?” He paused to laugh. “But, we’ve only just begun. So if you stab me after we’ve gotten to know each other, then I’ll know it’s personal.”

 

They pulled the dagger out together, The Grandmaster’s hand clasped over his. The wound didn’t act like any mortal wound Loki had ever seen. He couldn’t see the entrance point, just bloodied fabric. Usually there was more spurting of blood.

 

Loki must have had a pathetic look on his face, because The Grandmaster patted his cheek. “All is forgiven, sunshine. Although I do need to change my robe now. And look at the floor, what a mess… And speaking of messes, you look like you’ve been dug out of a, uh, trash load. You need a change of clothes too. C’mon.”

 

And so The Grandmaster waved Loki to a wall-wide closet.


End file.
